Caught in the Rain
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: 'Auriga Sinistra hated the rain, with the fires of a thousand boiling cauldrons, hated it. And it happened to be raining.' Things can't get much worse when Sinistra gets locked out in the rain. That is, until Snape gets locked out with her.


Caught in the Rain

***

__

Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you!

Auriga Sinistra hated the rain. Absolutely, without a doubt, with the fires of a thousand boiling cauldrons, hated it. It caused her hair to frizz horribly (that is, more the usual) once it recovered from being plastered damply to her head. She always ended up looking like a half-starved drowned rat when out in the rain. It wasn't exactly what you would call a good look. Then again, a certain bastard Potions Mater would readily inform her that none of her looks could be considered as being 'good.' But that was the reason that he was a bastard and she hated him.

Nevertheless, she preferred to stay indoors when the weather took a turn for the worse. Not that she had anyone to look good for, mind you, but it wasn't exactly kosher to show up to dinner looking like something a cat drug in through the mud and Merlin-know-what-else.

She shivered, wishing desperately that she had thought to bring her cloak. Unfortunately, she had been too scatter-brained to think of any such thing. It figured.

She peered up at the windows through rain-streaked glasses, wondering if anyone was around to see her. Each window was dark and empty. No one would be out for another half-hour at least. Dinner had probably just begun.

She wouldn't mind going to dinner wet right now. She actually wouldn't mind going anywhere, no matter how horrible she looked. 

Unfortunately, she was rather locked out at the moment.

And it happened to be raining.

__

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day

And make me travel forth without my cloak,

To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,

Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?

It was not what she might call her lucky day. In fact, it was downright rotten. She was standing outside, in the rain, with her shoes sinking into the mud, her glasses fogging over, and her hair hanging heavily around her face, stray curls clinging to her skin like glue. Her robes were soaked through and felt as if they weighed twice her body weight. In about two point five seconds she was going to collapse into the mud and let it swallow her up.

She glared at the door, attempting to will it to open.

No luck.

Dammit.

It had been open earlier, she swore it. She had gone out to plan her Astrology lesson in the morning. It had been a lovely day, after all, and had seemed a shame to let it go to waste. It was only after she had come back inside the castle and the first signs of rain had appeared that she realized that she had left her favorite star chart outside.

So naturally, she had assumed that the main door would still be open when she returned.

It hadn't been.

But really, why should it be open? Why shouldn't she be locked out. In. The. Rain. Why would anyone notice that Auriga Sinistra, Astronomy Tower recluse, was gone from the dinner table? No one would miss her until later when someone realized that there had been no one there pushing up the glasses that always slid down her nose. It wasn't like she added that much to the conversation.

She kicked the door, but the action did little except leave a streak of mud on the wood. With a sigh, she folded her arms and leaned back against the wet stones of the wall and shivered again. Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

It really wasn't fair. This sort of thing didn't happen to the other professors. She had never once heard of a teacher being locked out of his or her own school. Simply because she had forgotten to bring along her wand when stepping outside. She knew exactly where it lay... next to the parchment that contained her lesson plan. She had just used it to increase the lighting when she had realized that her star chart still lay outside.

No wonder Snape called her a 'starry-eyed twit.' She rather was. She had denied the fact up until now. But this had proved that Snape was right. Damn him. He was always right. She hated it. She hated him too. 

Right.

Bastard. He had probably noticed that she wasn't there. After all, he was the one who was always sneering at her and making snarky comments about her hair and frumpy clothes. Like he was one to talk.

She turned and gripped the door handle, pulling with all her might. (Mind, all her might did not amount to very much. Moaning Myrtle could probably best her at arm wrestling. But still.)

And suddenly... it opened.

That was something completely unexpected. She released the handle in surprise as she lost her footing in the soggy ground and went sprawling backwards, a mess of arms, legs, and dripping curls.

She landed hard in the mud with an "oomph!" Her glasses instantly all the way down her nose, cock-eyed as usual, and she pushed them up, smearing one lens with grime as she peered up at the now-open door.

A figure loomed over her, dark and foreboding, like something out of a horror story. It had a great hooked beak (_or was that a nose?),_ glittering eyes, and long fur that fell over its shoulders. And it looked like it wanted to eat her.

And then, the creature spoke. "Perhaps I should fetch Filch to hose you down, Auriga?"

Snape. Not exactly some foul hell-demon from the fiery depths... oh, who was she kidding? Of course he was. Bastard.

__

'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,

To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,

For no man well of such a salve can speak

That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace:

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;

She glared up at him. "Go to hell."

"After you."

__

Bastardbastardbastardbastard. She almost wished that he hadn't come to her 'rescue.' Surely it was better being miserable and alone in the rain than being made even more miserable by Snape. Even if she was beginning to feel the start of a cold coming on. And even if mud was beginning to soak through her robes. It wasn't a good feeling. But still better than Snape's company.

She struggled for a moment to get to her feet, to no avail. Her shoes simply dug deeper in to the muck and she managed to get all of... nowhere. Exhausted, she gave up and stared forlornly at the ground. 

"Graceful as always, I see," he sneered.

"You could help me up, you know," she snapped back at him.

"I could," he mused, a smirk creasing his face. "But you would muddy my clothing."

"Give me your damn hand!"

He looked surprised to hear the unaccustomed profanity come from her lips. For that, at least, she was pleased with herself. She had managed to shock Severus Snape. Perhaps she deserved some kind of award.

Sufficiently silenced for the time being, Snape leaned down and offered her a hand. She regarded it for a moment before a smile slipped over her face for a split-second. Oh, this was going to be good.

She took his proffered hand, and smiled quite graciously at him before jerking him forwards and into the muck. He let out a sound of surprise as he tumbled forwards, and she realized at the same time the one error in her plan. He was going to fall directly on top of her.

"Bloody hell!" 

Correction: He _had_ fallen directly on top of her.

Both were taken by surprise at this turn of events and grappled momentarily against each other (and she desperately hoped that it wasn't his hand that pressed briefly against her... um, chest.)

It was then that she realized the error of her little prank. Severus had been her way back into the castle. And now that she had pulled him down into the mud, he was no longer holding the door. Therefore (_one must love powers of deduction_), the door was closing, swinging slowly shut on creaking hinges. They both reached for it as one, but too late, it was shut- a resounding and finite noise.

He glared at her. "Does misery truly love company this much, Auriga, or are you simply that incompetent?" She didn't answer, but noticed- not without some glee- that he had mud on his beakish nose. _Ha._ She wouldn't tell him about it either. _Double ha._ Instead, she got slowly to her feet and stared down at herself. She guessed that she had gained about twenty pounds from the amount of mud clinging to her damp robes. The continued rainfall wasn't exactly helping.

By now, he had also stood and was brushing disgustedly at his muddied robes. She looked expectantly at him. "Well, open the door."

He looked up, an eyebrow arched. "I am not in current possession of my wand."

She stared. "What?"

"When I came to let you in, as recommended by Albus mind you, I left it on the table by the door. I wasn't expecting to be drawn into childish foolery by a grown woman."

__

Oh yeah? Well I'm rubber and you're glue... so yeah. She folded her arms, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Very well then. We'll just wait. Someone will come out soon." Moving toward the castle, she leaned back against the wall and stared out at the lake. Snape did the same, on the opposite side of the door. Friendly guy, really.

The minutes passed slowly with the thudding of the raindrops on the already soaked ground. Her glasses fogged up with the humidity in the air, and she wiped them once, twice, thrice, and again, to no avail. The fifth time she attempted to clear her vision, Snape gave a sort of guttural growl-grumble. She replaced the glasses and glanced over at him. "Do you have a problem?"

He didn't respond and she shrugged and turned back away from him. Bastard. Though she must admit that he looked rather amusing wet. His already-lank hair fell limply around his head and raindrops took a steep skiing course down the precipice of his nose. She found herself looking at him again, watching this with slight entertainment.

It took her nearly a minute before she realized that he was looking back at her, his customary sneer on his face. "Something funny, Auriga?"

She turned abruptly away. "No." She shivered suddenly and crossed her arms across her chest.

"You are cold," he commented dryly.

"No shit, Sherlock," she responded.

"Language, Auriga, language." She merely glared at him and shivered again despite her efforts to control the shaking. He gave an exasperated sigh and crossed over to stand by her. He shrugged off his outer cloak and held it out. She frowned and looked up at him. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, woman. Take the damn thing."

__

Bloody Prince Charming Bastard, here I come. Take me, I'm yours. After another moment, she grudgingly accepted the cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. Not that another sopping wet piece of material was going to do her much good. But it was the thought that counted, right? She glanced over at the sneering Potions Master beside her.

... 

Riiiiiiight.

Snape was standing beside her now. Granted, he wasn't close enough to remotely chance to touch her, but he was there nonetheless. _Probably making sure I don't spit on his precious cloak or something._

Speaking of which... was that cinnamon that she smelled? The scent was wafting up slowly to her nostrils. It couldn't be. Severus Snape's cloak could not smell of the one scent that she found positively irresistible. It just couldn't. The world didn't work like that. But she had to know. Under the guise of pretending to scratch her nose, she raised the sleeve to her face and inhaled. Yes. It was cinnamon.

Damn him.

Biting down on her lip, she glanced over at him again. That bit of mud was still on his nose. Perhaps she should tell him about it. Call it a professional courtesy. _Or call it the cinnamon affecting my brain._

Her glasses were fogging again, as well as sliding down her nose. Oh well. It wasn't as if she had anything to look at in the first place. Just rain, mud... and Snape. A blurred version of any of those three would not make her miss out on anything terribly important or handsome. Not in the slightest. Uh-uh. Nope. No siree.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Well, the rain had lent one positive attribute to her looks. Her hair was, at least, no longer a frizzy mess. Instead it was a... wet, matted, and dripping mess. Well, perhaps that wasn't exactly an improvement.

And her glasses. Always those bloody glasses. The weather had made their unmanageableness worse. Now, not only did they slide down her nose, but they fogged up, making her look quite ridiculous.

__

Well, more so than usual.

He wasn't quite sure why he had given her his cloak. He had never been the chivalric type. Perhaps the time he had spent reading Shakespeare had affected his thinking. All those thee's and thy's and therefore's and such. That must be it. It was really the only explanation.

After all, why should he wish to make that wench more comfortable? It was her fault that they were in this situation, caught in the rain as they were. If only she weren't so ridiculously childish...

He chanced another glance at her, and found that she was once again looking at him. _One might worry that she had a strange... obsession with him. Sneer._ Her glasses were both halfway down her nose and fogged over. Honestly.

He reached out to adjust them- "Your glasses-" at the same time she reached for him- "Your nose-" and they ended up with their hands on each other's faces, frozen as they looked at each other. He was touching her... and she him. He didn't want to touch her.

...

So why had he not yet removed his hand? _An interesting question._

They stared at each other, his fingers spread across her face, one pausing on the wire rim over her nose, her thin finger resting against his own. She blinked, looking rather like the figurative deer-in-the-headlights.

And then the door opened, revealing none other than Albus Dumbledore. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me Severus, Auriga. I didn't realize I would be interrupting you-"

Snape recovered first, snatching his hand away as if burned and clasping it in his other as Sinistra stumbled slightly backwards at the surprise. "Nonsense, Headmaster. I was just fixing-"

"-mud on his-"

"-completely fogged over. It was ridic-"

"-would have been embarrassing if he went inside-"

Dumbledore held up his hands, a brighter than usual twinkle in his blue eyes. "Of course, of course. Now come inside, both of you, and mind you don't track mud on the floors or Argus will have my neck..." He headed off, still talking, leaving the two inside the door, dripping water onto the newly-washed floors.

__

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;

Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:

The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief

To him that bears the strong offence's cross.

Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,

And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.

Snape whet his lips, strangely dry compared to the rest of him. "Auriga."

She nodded. "Severus." She wiped her glasses on the cloak she wore before realizing that it was his and quickly removing it and thrusting it abruptly at him. "Here. I mean, thanks. I mean... um... see you at breakfast, then."

"Yes," he grumbled, turning and stalking off in the other direction.

She shook her head. 

Bastard. 

***

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When that I was and a little tiny boy,  
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;  
A foolish thing was but a toy,  
For the rain it raineth every day.  
  
But when I came to man's estate,  
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;  
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gates,  
For the rain it raineth every day.  
  
But when I came, alas! to wive,  
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;  
By swaggering could I never thrive,  
For the rain it raineth every day.  
  
But when I came unto my beds,  
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;  
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,  
For the rain it raineth every day.  
  
A great while ago the world begun,  
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;  
But that's all one, our play is done,  
And we'll strive to please you every day

Notes: One simply must love Snape/Sinistra. It's written in the stars, it is. They just don't know it yet.

Shakespeare quotes from _Twelfth Night_ and _Sonnet XXXIV_.


End file.
